


The Cage

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch keeps his valuables under lock and key.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cage

**Author's Note:**

> This story won a 2010 Kink Bingo award for "Most Adorable First-Time Lifestyle Kink." :-)

Starsky answered the phone on the first ring. So what if Hutch thought he'd been mooning around, doing nothing, twiddling his thumbs and aching to hear from him? That was pretty much an accurate picture of the facts, and anyway, they were way past the cool and casual, I-can-take-it-or-leave-it stage. They'd ascended to the I-need-you-so-bad-I-don't-care-how-embarrassing-it-is level a long time ago.

And they had something new to talk about.

"Hutch?"

He heard a long breath on the other end, like Hutch was sighing with relief at hearing his voice. Starsky smiled.

"Hey," Hutch said.

"Hey."

There was a long pause, and then Hutch laughed softly. "My granddad used to say hay is for horses."

Starsky grinned. "How's Duluth?"

"Not bad. Cold."

"How're the folks?"

They spoke in unison – "Not bad. Cold" – and laughed.

"No, it's okay, Starsk," Hutch said, and sighed a little. "Really, they'll come around, I think. They just need a little more time to get used to it."

"Yeah. Okay." He didn't really want to talk about Hutch's parents. It was bad enough that they deprived him of his lover's presence for five whole days every Thanksgiving. He didn't need to hear about their noble attempts to "get used to it."

Another pause. Then Hutch asked, "How's it going there?"

Starsky closed his eyes. _How're the folks, how's it going – come on, Hutch, you know what I wanna talk about_.

"Great," he said aloud. "Went to the Dobeys' yesterday. They had a turkey the size of an ostrich, Hutch, I swear. Or a pterodactyl, maybe. _Big_ sucker. And dressing, cranberries, pumpkin pie…." He felt like burping, just remembering it.

Hutch was laughing. "How sick did you get?"

"Aw, I didn't get sick. Pants got pretty tight, though. I was afraid somebody would see…" He broke off, his heart doing a little skip and jump at the memory. There was a charged silence.

When Hutch spoke again, his voice was low, almost breathless. "Are you – are you wearing it?"

Starsky swallowed. _Finally_. " 'Course I'm wearing it." His voice had dropped, too, unconsciously. "I have to, you know that."

"Yeah." He heard Hutch breathing for a moment. "Does it hurt?"

Starsky choked out a laugh. "I told ya before, dummy, it doesn't hurt. I mean, not most of the time. Just when I think about – you know."

Hutch whispered, "When you think about me?"

"When I think about us," Starsky said, voice thick. "And when I dream about us. It's really bad then. I woke up this morning and I thought I was gonna explode, Hutch. And I couldn't do anything. I kept trying to stop thinking about the dream, but I couldn't."

"What happened in your dream?"

Starsky shifted, feeling the pressure begin. He closed his eyes for a moment. "You took me out of it and sucked me. It felt – God, I can't describe it. Like I'd never been sucked off before. You had me screamin', babe." He drew in a long, shuddery breath. "Only I woke up before I finished, dammit. And then I couldn't finish. I tried to touch it, even though I knew I couldn't, I tried to hump the mattress – Jesus, I was jumpin' outta my skin, I needed it so bad."

He heard a hitch in his partner's breathing, a little moan, and then a faint sound of flesh on flesh.

"Hey, no fair," he whispered. "Get your hand outta your pants, boy."

"Why?" Hutch gasped, and Starsky could picture him, his face, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, beautiful lips parted. Halfway there.

" 'Cause you're drivin' me nuts, that's why." Starsky swallowed. "Jack it on your own time, not when I have to listen." He lowered a hand to his crotch, automatically, encountering a hardness not his own. He winced.

"Sorry." Hutch panted for a long moment, and then Starsky heard a soft grunt and the sound of a zipper sliding closed. "Whose idea was this again?"

Starsky chuckled. "Mine. And no, I got no regrets."

Hutch sighed. "I still can't believe we're doing this. It's crazy, Starsk."

 _But you like it, too. You love it_. He grinned. "If you can't believe it, just reach up around your neck. That little key's there for a reason."

"But you're sure you're okay? You're sure you're not…."

"What?"

"I don't know," Hutch said lamely. "I just keep thinking – I mean, you can't get _out_."

"That's kinda the point, blintz."

"But what if – "

Starsky rolled his eyes. "What if, nothin'. I'm fine, except for being horny as hell, and that's only gonna last two more days, right?" _Two more days!_

"Right," Hutch said, his voice soft with promise. "You can count on that, buddy."

"Right." Starsky licked his lips. "So quit worryin' and have a good time in the frozen north with the frozen Hutchinsons, and I'll see ya Sunday afternoon." He lowered his voice seductively. "With your little key."

"Okay," Hutch said, breathlessly, and Starsky wondered how he could sound doubtful and concerned and happy and turned on all at once. "And, Starsk…."

"Yeah?"

"Uh, be careful how you pee, okay?"

 

*****

 

It wasn't hard to pee at all. He just had to do it sitting down.

One little ring behind his balls (well, not _that_ little, but tight), and that shiny, shiny steel covering everything else. He'd been worried at first that it would be cold, and it was, at first. Now it felt like a second skin. He liked the snugness of it, the way it hugged him. It was weirdly comforting.

And the lock. That was the best part.

 _"Starsk, I can't get it on you, dammit. You're too hard!"_

"No such thing, babe. Keep trying. God, your hands feel good."

Hutch took a slip of paper out of the box and read aloud. "'The penis must be in a flaccid state (non-aroused) in order for the cage to fit properly.' The damn thing's only three inches long, Starsky. I can't stuff all this in there."

"I can't help it, Hutch! It's – it gets me all excited, y'know? Thinkin' about it, what it's gonna feel like, you takin' it off me when you get back – oh, God – "

"Okay, okay." Hutch sighed and tossed the instructions aside. "I guess there's only one thing to do."

"We already did that, remember? You said you were draining me."

"Well, I obviously didn't drain you enough, did I? So help me, I don't know where you keep it all." He eyed Starsky's troublesome genitals critically. "Your balls don't look any bigger than anyone else's."

"That's an optical illusion," Starsky assured him. "You know I got the biggest, brassest balls in the Los Angeles metropolitan area."

Hutch snickered. "What, not the whole western hemisphere?"

"Sure. And the northern, too." Starsky grinned.

Hutch wiped the grin off with a kiss, and the second "draining" was soon accomplished to their mutual gratification. Starsky fell into a happy doze, and woke to the feeling of cool metal and the sound of a decisive click. He looked down at the locked cage, and then up at Hutch, who was gazing at him uncertainly, almost shyly, a worried crease deep between his eyes. I'll do anything you want, that look said. Are you sure you want this?

Starsky answered with the only words his mind could form at that moment. "I love you."

 

*****

 

It was amazing, all the little things you didn't think of at first. Like making sure you only went to public bathrooms that had stalls, because you couldn't use a urinal. Like wearing pants with a little extra room in the crotch. He actually had to go shopping before Hutch left to make sure he had some jeans that left at least a modicum to the imagination.

And airport metal detectors. Man, was he glad Hutch remembered that one in time. They said their goodbyes in the car.

They said their hellos in bed, Monday morning at one-thirty. Goddamn delayed flights and Midwestern blizzards and singsong-voiced LAX personnel who kept saying the same thing every time he called them. "We're sorry, sir, your friend's flight has been delayed. Please try calling back later." Starsky gave up and went to bed at midnight, where he stared at the ceiling mirror and stroked the gleaming steel. It reflected the light from the bedside lamp, giving the impression of tiny flames flickering between his legs.

He got under the covers eventually and dropped off. He dreamed dark, shifty dreams, of snow and flames and keys, and Hutch's voice saying, "Dad, next year I'm bringing him home to meet you."

He thought he dreamed of Hutch's mouth, too, on his shoulder, on his neck, on his lips, and then dreams merged with reality as Hutch's soft, silky tongue touched his. He woke up, grabbed an armful of naked partner, and might have shouted "Hallelujah!" if his mouth hadn't been full.

Hutch drew away, laughing, and Starsky gave him a playful shove. "Had to make me wait, huh? Had to cook up a fuckin' blizzard to torture me with, huh?"

Hutch shoved back. "I was stuck in the Duluth, Minnesota airport for eight hours, with screaming kids everywhere and Sidney Sheldon paperbacks and lines at every pay phone every time I tried to call. You think _you_ were tortured?"

"I was," Starsky said solemnly. "I've been a victim of torture for five days now." He caught Hutch's hand and guided it to his crotch. He watched the amusement fade out of Hutch's eyes, to be replaced by hunger.

"Starsk," Hutch whispered.

"Remember when I said it didn't hurt?" God, it was hurting now, the ring tightening, the unforgiving metal choking his flesh as it tried to swell. "I said it only hurt when I thought about us. But Hutch, I think about us all the time."

Hutch's eyes didn't leave the cage. His fingers traced it, up and down, slowly. He looked mesmerized.

Starsky licked his lips. "Did you think about it?"

Hutch nodded shakily. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought about you here waiting for me, wanting me, wanting to come." His fingers slipped underneath, where they stroked Starsky's exposed testicles lightly.

Starsky groaned, squirming under the touch. "God, don't," he gasped.

"I thought about – about the load you must have and how – how desperate you must be getting, and – "

"Hutch – "

 

Hutch's voice shook. "And how much you'd need me when I got back, and how fucking hard you'd be for me, and how I'd unlock you and you'd turn me over and shove into me and – "

"Jesus, the key!"

" – and we'd be s-so hungry for each other we'd fuck all night long, and – oh, Starsk – "

Starsky reached up and ripped the key off the chain around Hutch's neck. The tiny moon charm bounced away, unnoticed.

"Here," he rasped, thrusting the key into Hutch's hand. "Do it!"

Hutch took it, and stared at him uncertainly. "You said you wanted me to make you beg."

"Please," Starsky whispered, mouth dry. "Please."

Hutch let out a long, ragged breath, took the tiny padlock in one shaking hand, and promptly fumbled the key. "Goddammit!"

Starsky shoved his fist into his mouth and bit down on it. It was either that or wake the neighbors with frustrated screams.

Hutch scrabbled frantically in the sheets. "Okay, okay," he panted. "I've got it. Hold on, buddy."

"Can't – please – "

Hutch bent low over Starsky's groin. "Just a second, babe, just a – there!" The lock popped open, Hutch's hands gently separated the two halves of the cage and slid it off, and Starsky almost sobbed as his cock sprang up to meet his belly. Oh, freedom.

Hutch whispered, "Fuck me, Starsk. I want you to f– "

Starsky lunged up, silencing Hutch with his mouth, and in the same motion grabbing him and shoving him onto his back. His cock and balls were throbbing so violently he actually had a moment of crazy panic that they would rupture.

"Can't," he gasped. He was a little surprised that his brain still worked well enough to allow him to form words. "Don't have time, I'd hurt ya – "

"Starsk," Hutch moaned. He bucked wildly under Starsky, almost throwing him off, and grabbed his ass, crushing their erections together.

Starsky yelled, his whirling mind unable to separate pain from pleasure, and shoved back hard, harder, grinding himself blindly against Hutch, mad with the sudden friction, the heat, the pressure he'd been denied for what now seemed like eons. Hutch shouted Starsky's name, and they writhed together in desperation, hips slamming, lungs pumping, hands clutching, the hot, slick rhythm driving Starsky to frenzy.

 _Close, close_ , his mind chanted, _so close, please, please now, please…._

And then it was there, _there_ , hot lightning streaking through him, and he heard himself shout as his cock erupted, spilling over Hutch's belly, and Hutch's cry joined his, and they shuddered through the last shocks together, their fingers digging hard into each other's flesh, until the ecstasy slowly, slowly died away and left them panting weakly, spent.

Starsky slipped off, rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and let gratitude wash over him. Never before had he felt the true meaning of Thanksgiving so keenly.

Next to him, he heard Hutch's harsh, gradually slowing breathing. He turned his head. Hutch's eyes were closed, his mouth open, sweat and semen gleaming on his heaving chest. Starsky could see tired muscles quivering in aftershock beneath the skin.

He felt his throat close up, his eyes burn.

 _I love you so much, babe, there's no way I can tell ya. There's no way I could ever make you understand. There's no words_.

He turned away, opened the nightstand drawer, and removed the towel he found there. Carefully he cleaned himself, and then Hutch, smiling at him as he did so. Hutch smiled back, eyes tired but bright.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder. He gave it a gentle tug. "Hey," he said softly. "C'mere and rest."

Hutch sighed a deep sigh and turned toward him, rolling easily into his arms, scooting down a bit so his head could nestle comfortably against Starsky's shoulder. His breath ruffled the hair on Starsky's chest.

Starsky kissed the top of his head. "Long day, huh?"

He felt Hutch laugh quietly. "Long day." After a moment he raised his head and looked into Starsky's eyes. "But at least I could go into the airport men's room and jerk off if I wanted to."

Starsky grinned. "Hey, I bought that thing. I wanted you to lock me up in it. My idea, not yours."

Hutch sighed again. "Starsk, I'm sorry."

Starsky could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He was too sleepy to deal with a Hutchinson guilt trip. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Well, I didn't do this very well, did I? You wanted me to tease you and play with you and be all confident and masterful and in control, but – I just took one look at you and started drooling. I lost it completely, I couldn't wait to get you out of there, I was ready to beg _you_ – stop laughing!"

Starsky made an attempt to squelch his giggles. "Hey, I had a hell of a time. Things don't always have to work out exactly as planned to still be fun."

Hutch touched Starsky's face, his thumb tracing a cheekbone. "You want to do it again?" he said softly.

Starsky smiled and turned his head to kiss Hutch's palm. "Yeah, sure. Sometime. The guy at the store said some people practically _live_ in the things. It's like a whole lifestyle or something."

"Yeah. I've heard of that."

Starsky looked curiously at him. "That turn you on?"

"You being locked up for me all the time?" Hutch hesitated. "Maybe. A little."

"It'd be like I belonged to you. That's what it felt like this time, Hutch. Like I was yours."

"But you always have been," Hutch said in a whisper. "Always. I don't need to put your dick in a cage to know that."

Starsky grinned. "Aw, I know you don't. The whole thing's probably pretty dumb, anyway – "

"No," Hutch said quickly. "It's not dumb. If it's what you want, it's not dumb." He paused. "Batshit crazy, maybe…."

Starsky slapped the top of his head. "Maybe we could just do it for special occasions, y'know? Like we did this time, while you were gone." His eyes widened as an idea struck him. "Hey, yeah. We could pretend I'm screwin' around on ya, and you have to keep me locked up while you're away so I won't be tomcattin' all over town – "

"Uh, Starsk – "

" – stickin' it in everything in sight, 'cause I'm such a slut, and – "

"Starsk. Starsk!"

Starsky blinked. "You don't like that idea? I think it'd be fun."

"We can do it if you want to, but not while I'm gone." Hutch smiled at him, a little tentatively. "The next time I go home, I want you to come with me."

Starsky stared at him. "To meet your family?"

Hutch rolled onto his back and looked up. "It's time they got over it. They've known for over a year, ever since – ever since Gunther. They know we're together, they know I love you, they just – they just don't want to deal with it. When I talk about you, my mom suddenly gets nervous and changes the subject. My dad…." He laughed, painfully. "My dad pretends I didn't say anything, or tells me I'm ruining the holiday, or turns the TV up so loud we can't hear each other." He paused for a moment. "My sister's better about it. But even she acts like it's a – handicap, or something. She's got this liberal tolerance thing going. Poor Ken and his dysfunctional libido. Let's be nice to him."

Starsky heard the tremor in the quiet voice. He inched closer, pressed his lips gently to Hutch's shoulder, stroked Hutch's bare foot with his own.

He said softly, "I didn't know it was still that bad. You didn't tell me – "

"Yeah," Hutch said. He sighed, relaxing a little under Starsky's caresses. "But next time, we're both going. They'll just have to live with it. I'm not gonna let them ignore you. You're as much a part of the family as my brother-in-law is." He cleared his throat, and his voice took on a sudden bantering note. "And you're a hell of a lot sexier."

Starsky felt a smile break over his face at Hutch's change of mood. He lay back, folding his arms behind his head. "Don't be too hard on the poor guy. I mean, I'm sexier than most people."

"And you're humble and self-effacing."

"And I've got a sexy, humble, self-effacing partner who really knows his way around a padlock."

Hutch yawned. "And who is half-dead from physical and emotional exhaustion." He turned onto his side, punching his pillow.

"Poor baby. Okay, go to sleep. We'll work on your stamina tomorrow. We'll start an intensive training program. Sex at breakfast, lunch and dinner, two hundred push-ups, and I'll even let you run beside the Torino all day on patrol. Make a new man outta ya."

Hutch opened one eye briefly and glared. "Shut up, Starsky."

Starsky affected an innocent expression. "Just tryin' to help."

He turned the light off and lay back, watching as the lines smoothed out on Hutch's face, listening as his breathing slowed and deepened. When he was sure Hutch was asleep, he put out a finger and stroked the blond mustache, watching Hutch's nose wrinkle reflexively at the touch.

He sighed and turned over, burrowing into a comfortable position for sleep, and his foot struck something cold in the sheets. He reached down, found the cage, and held it gently for a moment, remembering. Then he tucked it safely under his pillow and went to sleep.


End file.
